


the way things begin

by fanforfanatic



Series: Destiel Drabbles [23]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (but you don't ever really get out of the life), Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Retired Hunter Dean, Retired Sam, they are cursed!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 09:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanforfanatic/pseuds/fanforfanatic
Summary: Sam is helping Dean unpack the new home he shares with Cas when the inevitable happens.





	the way things begin

Their name is cursed. Their _conception_. Fashioned puppets meant to play out on Earth what once was in Heaven. The way it began is how it ends… or some bullshit.

They survived that, and every other near apocalypse after it. Now, they get to live a life that is nothing but blessings, small and large.

“I don’t know, Dean,” Sam says. “I think the bed is better against the far wall.”

Dean doesn’t explain that Cas will be a grump every morning of the rest of their lives if the sun wakes him as it rises, which it will with the bed moved to the back of the room. Instead, he keeps wiring the new sconce, and says, “It’s good like this.” It’s more than that. _Perfect._

“If you say so, man.” Sam taps a wooden post of the bed heartily, and smiles at the bare mattress. “Did you ever think we’d be the type of people that help each other move?”

Dean rips a piece of electrical tape from the roll with his teeth to wrap around the blue wire. “Did I ever think we’d have mortgages?” He laughs and it isn’t bitter, or sad, or laden with things left unsaid. It’s happy. Light. “Nah. Figured we’d—”

A spark, a measly little flicker, ignites in Dean’s fingertips and he whips his hand back with a _manly_ yelp. There’s a beat of nothing, eerie quiet, then a muttered _sonovabitch_. And then there’s fire.

It spreads wildly, expands across the wall and reaches into the room like a greedy invasion. Dean has never seen anything like it. Except the one time he has.

The flames consume the bed he and Cas spent a day picking out. It eats the floor, and blocks their exit, and fills his lungs.

“ _Sammy_.”

A cough answers him, and he reaches in its direction. He can barely see, barely breathe. He’s known proper protocol for house fires since he was four, it got drilled into his head every night for a year, but he can’t think right now. Not rationally, not at all.

He finds Sam in the smoke and they stumble towards the door together, jumping through the wall of fire there.

“It’s everywhere,” Sam chokes, and what Dean _can_ see of him is worrying.

“Come on,” he shouts over the crackle of wood.

He guides Sam to the stairs, heat clinging to his skin, seeping in with every step. Sam wobbles on the landing, so he slings an arm over his shoulders to support his baby brother on the way down.

The first step gives beneath his foot and the whole thing crumbles loudly, but it’s the sick sound of shattering bone that’ll haunt Dean for the rest of his life.

They land in rubble, a bed of splintered wood and Sam’s cries.

“Can you walk?” Dean asks, looking between his broken brother and the front door, five yards away.

Sam doesn’t answer him beyond misty eyes and dread is what keeps Dean from breathing now.

“We gotta go.” He starts lifting Sam into a standing position, but stops when the groan becomes a wail. “Now, Sam,” he begs.

He drags his brother across the debris, inching his way towards the door.

“When we get out of here, we’re going to have a talk about this gigantor body of yours.” He makes it a yard, before he collapses, and another half on trembling limbs.

“Dean, _go_.”

“Shut your mouth. I ain’t leaving you.”

The door swings open, and Cas is at the end of the path that leads to the house, surrounded by a ring of flames. Holy fire.

If Dean can get to Cas, Cas can get to Sam and fly him out of here.

“Sit tight, Sammy,” he says after laying him down. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Sam nods and coughs, and Dean looks away from his crumpled brother. He staggers to the door, across the threshold, makes it down the porch, past the petunias—

The roof caves in. He knows because he’s heard what that sounds like before.

He knows because things end the way they begin.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on that [tumbz](https://fanforfanatic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
